


Special needs

by ZiamIsBrave



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Best Friends, Bottom Louis, Drug Use, M/M, Marijuana, Recreational Drug Use, Sexual Content, Top Zayn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-14
Updated: 2015-01-14
Packaged: 2018-03-07 14:01:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3175522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZiamIsBrave/pseuds/ZiamIsBrave
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not rare for this to happen. There are obviously times the two of them just have a spliff together, rejecting every thought, laughing, joking around saying stuff they won't remember later, or about which they'll laugh even more once sober. But there are times they both realize that laughing and joking around isn't enough. Times like this one, when they need to help each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Special needs

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Special Needs](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/92970) by ZiamZiam. 



Zayn has never been a good faker. Sometimes he tries to emulate the other members of his band, who effortlessly manage to hide their actual mood behind a wide smile or some joke, at least during interviews or public occasions: after all, he knows he is not the only one of them constantly subject to stress. However he is not like them, it isn't in his nature, and so he often ends up being the quiet one, with a serious look on his face, just nodding every now and then, answering a few words the few times he is directly asked, and only showing a strained smile when needed.

It's often taken for granted that famous people's lives are perfect. Bullshit, nothing but bullshit. Zayn can't really blame people who think like this though, considering the fact that he has been one of them until just a few years ago. He used to look up at VIPs with the eyes of an outsider, who sees nothing but the good things, the smiles shown to cameras, the statements only made to please the fans. But what happens when the camera isn't there? Even people we are used to see on TV have a life, thoughts, worries, feelings.

And as trite as it may sound, if you really think about it, it really isn't. But now the boy knows, having long stopped being Zain Javadd Malik, an ordinary teenager from Bradford, and having become Zayn Malik, singer, celebrity, one of those people who we think have a life only when it is observed and witnessed.

“Good work today, lads! Now get to bed, we're leaving early tomorrow morning!”

Paul's voice shakes Zayn up from his thoughts. Without having even noticed, lost as he was in his mind, he finds himself with the others at the seventh floor of the hotel they're staying at tonight. He had probably stopped caring about the outside world as soon as they had gotten off the bus and had had to rely on their bodyguards in order to reach the hotel's entrance without being assaulted by hordes of crazy fans. Some days Zayn would have been happy for their enthusiasm. Some days he would have at least tried to fake it. But not today.

He sees the other lads all nod. They look tired, but they still seem to be euphoric and exhilarated by the post-concert high, smiling and joking around with each other as they lazily head each to his own room, as the sleepy bodyguards and Paul also do.

With a sigh and after having sent just a quick smile towards the others, he starts to move towards his assigned room as well, finding the room key to be in his pocket. It was probably given to him during his minutes of complete absence from the outside world.

His mates' voices disappear one after the other with a “good night” or a “see you tomorrow” while he fishes the key out and takes it to the keyhole of the door he has stopped in front of. It's only when he turns it in the lock, that he is reached by the only voice, he only notices it now, that hadn't taken its leave yet.

“You alright?”

He blinks as he turns the head to his right where, just a few feet away, he finds Louis, about to enter his own room as well. His eyebrows are slightly arched as he stares at him.

Zayn returns the gaze silently. He knows that perplexed look isn't genuine, and that Louis only decided to ask that question because he has already realized that no, he's not alright. Nevertheless, he just shrugs his shoulders and faces the half-open door again, pulling it open completely.

“Yeah, don't worry” he says, stepping inside the room.

He is already closing the door behind himself when he hears the reply coming from the crack left open on the corridor, immediately followed by the click of the door closing: “Be there in a moment”.

\---

Is it really an engagement if you manage to see your fiancée barely ten times a week maybe? Is it really an engagement if teen magazine covers seem to know your fiancée better than you do? Is it really an engagement if your fiancée is okay with you having sex with other people during long spans of time spent away from each other? Zayn can't help but chuckle to himself at the thought, as he shakes his head and moves the cigarette away from his mouth, releasing the smoke towards the night view of the city they're in at the moment, whose name he doesn't care to remember at the moment.

He is sitting by the window of his room, his chin resting on the knuckles of his left hand while his elbow leans on the window ledge.

Every time he finds himself in this mental state, everything comes back to him, even stuff he usually doesn't think about. His relationship with Perrie, the stress of having to move around all the time, the few chances of seeing his parents and sisters, and even the fact that, both because of the busy schedule and the fans always spotting him, it's impossible for him to do like any normal person and decide to go out for a walk, just to cool down and stop thinking for a while.

He can't even afford this small banal luxury.

When he hears the knock on the door he already know it's Louis. After all he didn't tell him not to come. And even if he had, he knows the other wouldn't have listened, he would have listened to his real voice, the one that, in spite of himself, had talked to his mate to ask him for the help he knows he needs.

“It's unlocked” he says, and the door immediately opens up.

Zayn takes a last puff from the fag, pressing it down on the ashtray sitting on the window ledge afterwards as he turns to look at Louis, who is locking the door behind himself using the key that Zayn had purposefully left in the keyhole. While the other boy is still giving him his back, he can easily spot a small plastic bag peeking out of the other's jeans' back pocket. He doesn't need to ask what it is.

“Okay,” Louis says, as a matter of fact, as he turns around to face Zayn and moves his hand to grab the bag, before he shakes it right in front of his face “I was just waiting for you to try this shit”.

Despite his bad mood, Zayn can't hold back a light chuckle at the other's words. He stands up from the chair he has been sitting on and goes to sit on the edge of the Queen-size bed instead, where Louis soon joins him, leaving a little room between them and occupying it with both the small bag and the cigarette papers just taken out of his other pocket.

“So, now you either talk or help me” Louis immediately states, throwing Zayn a meaningful look. Zayn doesn't wait for a second call, choosing the better option at once. He starts preparing skins and filters, making Louis dramatically roll his eyes. “You're hopeless” he comments.

Zayn smiles and shrugs again, getting flipped off in response from his mate, who laughs right after that. It's not like he doesn't want to share. He trusts Louis, and he is sure the other knows. But when the issues and problems that show up are always the same, why keep talking about them? Nothing is resolved by talking as you prepare a joint with your best mate.

\---

“Are you listening to me or not?”

Contrary to Zayn's hopes, Louis hasn't caught his drift. Or, he probably has but has also decided to deliberately ignore it, starting to talk with his loud voice, repeating things already said thousands of times before, without ever stopping for a moment, eyes however fixed on the grass that he is adding tobacco to, and without even giving his friend any time to reply. At least until that moment, when he lifts his head to see that Zayn, after having finished setting down the skins and preparing the filters, has lit another cigarette and is staring at the ceiling, clearly ignoring him.

The younger one sighs, breathing out the smoke without worrying about polluting the air in the room. “I've stopped listening to you five minutes ago”.

“I wasn't even here yet five minutes ago” Louis retorts.

“Ask yourself some questions then!” Zayn grins, teeth biting the filter of the cigarette as he finally moves his gaze on the other again, although Louis doesn't look impressed at all.

Weird, to Zayn that was a pretty witty remark.

Rolling his eyes, he reaches out for the ashtray in order to add the fag end to the previous one. “Can we just not talk about this stuff? At least not right before we smoke pot. You know that if you get me depressed right before we start, I end up feeling even worse”.

“You definitely don't need my help to get depressed” Louis comments, shrugging. “Anyway I'm done here. Should we do a joke competition before we roll?”

Zayn lazily kicks his ankle, frowning. “I'm serious. What's the point in smoking a joint and ending up feeling sorry for myself?”

“Alright then, I'll start” Louis says, leaning on his side to start rolling, a big smile on his face and arched eyebrows, almost making fun of his mate who, with an exasperated sigh lets himself lie down on the bed with his feet still on the floor. “Once upon a time there were two friends-”

“Jokes never start with 'once upon a time';...”

“Silence. So, the two friends were very important people. Basically every wish they had turned into reality, just like magic!”

“In other words, they were rich”.

Louis throws a pillow against Zayn, who grabs it and keeps it on his face as he hears next to him the sound of Louis continuing to prepare the joints and starting to talk again.

“You might think they were happy. But were they? Wealth- ehm, magic doesn't equal happiness, and this is common knowledge...” The boy stops talking in order to let out a dramatic sigh, followed by the sound of his tongue running over the cigarette paper. “So what did they do? The looked for love, obviously! But was it possible for them to find love? Anyone could have pretended to be in love with them just to take advantage of their power and magic”.

“This magic thing ruins every hint of seriousness from what you're saying” Zayn's voice comments, muffled by the pillow.

“Zayn, it's a joke, it shouldn't be serious”.

“I think you're already a bit high...”

Louis snickers. “Well, the two friends searched and searched, until they found two people genuine enough to love them unconditionally”. He stops again to finish preparing the other joint as well.

Louis remains silent a little bit too much and Zayn moves the pillow away from his face. “Well, is it finished?” he asks. The other stands up with a blunt in each hand and moves towards him; he gets on the bed on his knees without helping himself with his arms and sits down on Zayn's legs, knees pressed tight around his hips.

“No, almost. The two friends planned engagements and weddings, but even then they realized they weren't happy”. Zayn reaches out to try and grab one of the joints from the other's hand, but Louis withdraws it. “And in the end, you know what they did?”

Zayn sighs, smiling a little more as he lets his hands move from the covers to the other lad's thighs. “What did they do?”

With a wide smile, Louis leans forward until their faces are barely inches from each other. “... They turned their brains off and started shagging each other to convince themselves that everything was good” he finishes in a whisper, pressing his lips against Zayn's.

\---

A faint cloud of white smoke has appeared in the room by now. Of course, they had decided to keep the window open at first but, once their clothes had ended up on the floor, they had realized that the cold was much worse than an ambient filled with something that didn't bother them anyway.

The marijuana hasn't taken long to kick in. Right after the kiss, Louis has replaced his lips on the other's with one of the joints, before lighting his own and making the two tips touch in order to light Zayn's too.

Then everything has turned into an endless loop of long drags, tongues meeting, and smoke shared between the two lads' mouths and lungs, a loop interrupted only by quiet moans, held back sighs, whispered words, a hoarse “Too hot...” just muttered and followed by a quick and impatient attempt to take off as many clothes as possible, which were naturally guilty with separating their bodies with too many layers for their own liking, and not of making them too hot, especially with the window right there.

It's not rare for this to happen. There are obviously times the two of them just have a spliff together, rejecting every thought, laughing, joking around saying stuff they won't remember later, or about which they'll laugh even more once sober. But there are times they both realize that laughing and joking around isn't enough. Times like this one, when they need to help each other.

Zayn keeps the blunt between his right hand's fingers, forearm lifted in order not to risk burning the covers. The other hand lazily runs over the other's warm skin, explores his legs, moves up to his thighs, traces with his fingers the shape of his hips until it reaches his stomach, chest, and collarbones. He feels so relaxed that he might just fall asleep peacefully, if it weren't for a single part of his body that is not relaxed at all...

With his back straightened up and his chest out almost to try and enjoy even better the other lad's strokes, Louis has his legs bent on the bed, sitting on Zayn's thighs. The hand which is not busy moving every now and then towards his mouth to inhale another fix from the joint is between them, holding in its grip both their erections and moving up and down with a slow rhythm that, judging from the content sounds that escape their mouths every now and then, pleases them both just fine.

“So,” Louis starts, talking again after quite a few minutes of silence – or at least Zayn thinks they're quite a few, he is never sure about how time works when he is high “is your fiancée okay with you entertaining yourself like this?”

Zayn laughs, a little more than he would have under normal circumstances at a question like that. “I didn't know you had an 'if your wife knew...' kink...” he replies, amused, voice a bit slurred as he arches an eyebrows. “But in my case yes, she is. Why don't we talk about you instead?”

“Touché” Louis admits with a sigh, before snickering. He lets the smoke fill his lungs with a long puff, then leans forward and pushes his lips on Zayn's; the dense white cloud slithers in from his mouth to the other's half-open one.

As he starts enjoying another hit, closing his eyes and welcoming without any kind of resistance the other lad's smoke, Zayn immediately recognizes the wetness of his own erection pressed against his stomach because of the position they're in now. For some reason, maybe because of his current mental condition, this is something both amusing and exhilarating for him, and his lips arch in a smile, letting a chuckle escape them. He finds himself pushing his hips forward a little, as if signalling Louis that maybe it's time to go on.

The older one arches an eyebrow, lifting himself up again and looking down at Zayn underneath him with a perplexed look in his eyes. “What, now you're fucking my hand? What are you, fifteen?” He clearly thinks his own joke to be extremely funny, because he starts laughing right after, soon followed by Zayn, who shakes his head and then gestures at the bedside table where the lube is already open, right next to a condom. “Yeah, when I'm gonna need guidance for something that I already did when you still listened to Jonas Brothers I'll let you know, okay?”

Zayn laughs again, following with his eyes the movement of Louis' hand, which moves towards the condom, leaving them both temporarily unattended. He doesn't know whether the way Louis takes the small bag to its mouth to rip it open with his teeth is actually sexy or if it's because of the drug, but he doesn't really care. Actually he doesn't really care about anything. Anything that isn't Louis' hand moving down his erection to cover it all with the thin layer of latex, or the look on the boy's face as he does it and takes another long drag.

“Are you lost in a daydream or what?” Louis mocks him with a smirk that plainly shows that Zayn's gaze on him doesn't bother him at all. Louis' hand once again reaches the bedside table, this time grabbing the lube.

When he sees Louis furrowing his eyebrows and move his eyes between one hand and the other, Zayn frowns too. “Problems?”

“Hold this for me” the other replies quickly, handing him the blunt. “I need both hands free”.

Now, Zayn gets why Louis needs both hands free. But he still doesn't think it's fair that he now has to witness a show like this with both his hands busy, without even being able to bring one between his legs to get some relief. He doesn't think it's fair having to watch Louis Tomlinson pouring a generous amount of liquid on his fingers, putting down the bottle on the bedside table again and supporting himself with his dry hand against Zayn's chest, as the lube-covered fingers move behind the older's back, causing a pleasant wet noise when they start slipping between his buttocks.

And the worst thing is that the bastard is enjoying seeing Zayn so inoffensive, seeing him so frustrated and unable to do anything while he is right there with that smirk, moving his fingers inside himself, not forgetting to let out – on purpose, no doubts – some way too loud moans.

“Zayn Malik, don't you dare drop that joint, or you're getting a punch in your face” he warns him, still smiling. To be honest, the temptation to do just that is strong, but Zayn decides to act like the thought hasn't even crossed his mind.

It takes Louis a long time to prepare. Or maybe it's his being high that makes Zayn perceive that span of time as so bloody long. All he knows is that as long as Louis will keep doing that, he may even make him wait an hour, but his erection is definitely not going anywhere. And the other certainly knows this too.

He can't hold back a relieved and thankful sigh when Louis' hand reappears from behind his back and the lad already starts moving to sit higher on Zayn's body. However, his hand soon disappears behind him again, but what his fingers are wrapped around this time makes a proper loud moan escape Zayn's mouth, at which Louis' smile widens even more. He doesn't mock him for that though, and Zayn is grateful about this. Just like he is grateful about Louis deciding not to tease too much when he moves Zayn's erection between his buttocks, making it brush only for a few seconds against the usually hidden piece of skin, before lifting himself up a little in order to align and then slide slowly down.

The sound they let out is almost simultaneous, despite how different their voices sound. Two pairs of eyes close as, with a mixture of calm and exhilaration revealed by the way both of them shiver lightly, Zayn is welcomed deeper and deeper inside of Louis at every movement of his hips. They hold their breath for almost the entirety of the time it takes the older to sit completely on Zayn. Only then they release the tension, their voices once again coordinating in a slow deep sigh.

They stay still for a few seconds, eyes half-lidded, staring at each other without saying anything. Louis' right hand runs through his hair, before starting to move down his body. It only brushes against his own erection, moving instead on Zayn's abs, tracing their shape over the light layer of sweat that covers both their bodies. He covers the rest of the way with both hands open on Zayn's bare torso: one hand stops on the shoulder, the other moves on up his arm, grabbing the joint previously given to him with a fluid movement. “... This is mine, isn't it?” he murmurs with an attempt of a cheeky tone of voice, ruined by the intensity of the feelings he is experiencing at the moment, accentuated by the effects of what he has just grabbed again.

Zayn doesn't even waste a moment to reply. His finally free hand immediately goes to wrap itself around Louis' erection, while he sets the other on the boy's hip, being careful not to touch his skin with the lit end of the blunt he is still holding between his fingers.

From then, once the tension built during Louis' unfair little show wears off, things start getting more relaxed and slow again, but still not less exciting for either of them.

The combined movements of Zayn pushing inside Louis and Louis' hips rolling over him creates an absolutely perfect situation to the lad's intoxicated eyes and mind. If just a minute earlier he wouldn't have been willing or able to move his hand away from the other's hip and thigh any more, now he has no problem at all with bringing the joint back to his mouth, while still masturbating him at the same rhythm as their pushes.

The time dilation caused by marijuana doesn't bother him at all now. He'd spend hours sinking inside Louis' body. And if cannabis allows him to turn minutes in hours, even better. It means that in his head he will have had sex with the other for hours and hours.

Despite it all, however, time still passes. Almost without them noticing, their own movements start getting faster, more eager. Their breaths get more frantic, their blunts get shorter and shorter, until their bodies ask for nothing but some release.

“I'm about to-”

“Me too...”

It only takes one last look, their eyes meeting at the peak of the pleasure that is already starting to run through their essence itself, to give them that last small push needed to bring them beyond their limit.

Zayn's fingernails dig into Louis' skin, while his rake over the other's shoulders. An intense wave of pleasure shakes them both, made longer and better by the psychoactive constituent inhaled until then. Louis' orgasm wets Zayn's stomach, the other boy still keeping a firm grip on the older's erection, accompanying it in its release while giving a few last tired pushes inside of him.

It takes a few more minutes for them to completely stop and for the only movement remaining in the room to be the slow breathing of their exhausted bodies. Yet a few minutes more for one of them to have recovered enough to let an amused and satisfied snicker escape his lips.

“Are you convinced?”

Zayn half-opens his eyes at the question. “... What?” he asks with a weak voice.

Louis smiles, brushing his nose against the other's cheek. “Are you convinced that everything is good?” he murmurs directly into his ear.

Silence falls again, while Zayn's brain struggles to understand the other's words. Only after a few seconds, his lips arch in a smile again, as a bitter laugh leaves his mouth.

Might as well keep his brain off for a little while longer.


End file.
